Silent Reach
by SassyJ
Summary: Stuart and Jo are in a car crash, when he wakes up Jo is missing..... and something is very strange....... Stu sets out to find her.
1. Be Careful What You Wish For?

"Why? Because I simply don't believe in ghosts, ghouls and things that go bump in the night."

Jo shot her sergeant a slightly irritated glare. She knew his expression only too well; he was sitting on her desk, leaning forward, hands spread wide in a gesture of innocence which didn't fool her for a second. His brow wrinkled slightly, his brown eyes were wide and guileless. This was Stuart Turner's classic response to most situations he couldn't get a handle on: scepticism.

They were alone here in CID, and even though he was her sergeant, their relationship was close enough for her to call him on his scepticism. "And why do I find myself in the position of warning you to be careful what you wish for?" She glared for emphasis. "Again!" Stuart's arrogance sometimes made for disaster, as he'd been tripped up by his own incredible self-belief more than once.

The part which infuriated her? He wasn't really like that. Difficult, certainly, and insecure, but he had a heart of gold under all that macho posturing; Jo just wished he would be comfortable enough in himself to give up all that jockeying for position. It fooled nobody and irritated some, which was why Stuart often found himself on the outside looking in.

Now he was trying to make her laugh. She watched that half-smile peek out, the way his mouth crooked up at the corners, the dimples which appeared in his cheeks, the way the brown eyes danced. She sighed. It was late, they were on night shift together, there was nothing particularly exciting about the misper which had come in, but the husband's confused tale made no sense at all. It was almost one in the morning and the misper had last been seen on the outer edges of their beat, near an abandoned factory down by the river. From twenty years of policing, Jo knew something wasn't right.

Stuart got to his feet. "We are going to take a look at this factory."

Jo walked over to the rack to collect her jacket. As she picked it up, she shivered. _Goose walking over my grave._ _Something's wrong_. She couldn't have said why she thought that, but the two ideas flashed through her mind like lightning.

"Sarge..."

Stuart turned, the keys to the Toyota in his hand.

She looked him in the eye. "Do me a favour: be careful."

"Aren't I always?" That teasing light in his eyes. He was dancing with the devil again, she knew it...

~*~*~*~*~

The old factory was huge, forming an ominous shape in the pale moonlight. Half-rusted signs dangled from the chain-link fence and flapped slightly in the breeze, warning of disaster and death should anyone attempt to enter.

They got out of the car. It had been a relatively warm night when they left the station, but the temperature seemed to have dropped. Jo huddled into her jacket, grateful that she'd also bought her scarf. Stuart fished around in the boot for a torch and they headed over to the abandoned factory. Stuart shone the torch through some of the remaining windows. "Nothing in there." He looked up at the front. "Why Mason thought his wife would be here, I have no idea! But I think we've been dealt a wild goose chase."

Jo put her hand on the concrete wall of the monstrous thing. Above her it reared up _like some kind of beast,_ she thought,_ waiting to devour us_. Something else gnawed at the back of her mind. The concrete felt cold to her touch, even colder than she expected, and again she shivered. Whatever was going on, there was something wrong; there was something wrong about the entire case, the husband's reluctance to discuss what his wife might have been doing in this desolate place, everything had pushed them to that place and she didn't know why. Suddenly the why was crucial, as was the need to leave. Immediately.

"There's nothing here. Should we just leave it, Sarge?"

Stuart shrugged. They had nothing but a wasted journey and a freezing windswept trek around a derelict building to show for it.

"Let's go." He asserted his authority, even while sensing Jo's smile at his bossiness.

Despite the cold and the feeling of doom she couldn't shake, Jo grinned. That was Stu all over: taking charge as always.

They headed back to the car in companionable silence. Stuart reached to turn on the ignition, and as he reversed the lights came from nowhere. Frantically, Stuart stuck his foot hard down on the accelerator. Jo had the brief impression of a large vehicle flying towards them, and Stu desperately tried to accelerate out of the way before the heavy van hit, and they were hurled sideways.

~*~*~*~*~

"Stuart Turner."

Stuart opened his eyes. He was slumped forwards, his body dragging on the seatbelt, his cheek appeared to be resting against the steering wheel and the now-deflated air bag. _Car crash_. That was the obvious conclusion. _Jo. Jo?_ He sat up with difficulty. Pain ran from his right collarbone arrowing diagonally downwards across his body. _The seatbelt._ He looked across, but the passenger seat was empty. Jo was gone.

"Stuart. Do I have your attention now?" _That voice. _Stu shook his head, trying to clear it, while something like a jackhammer lanced up his neck. Even turning his head only slightly, hurt him. A lot. The Toyota had crashed. He had been injured in the crash. That made sense, even if nothing else actually did. He tried to gather his tangled thoughts and unravel them. Now he was hearing voices. Well, _a voice_.

"Stuart, I don't want to rush you, but there is an element of time critical to consider."

"Critical? Time? What? How?" Stu put a hand up to his head and rubbed gently. He had a hen's egg sized lump above his right eye. He quickly enumerated his other known injuries. He had to get to Jo, and he needed to be mobile to do it. He looked around him carefully. Stars and spots danced before his eyes; he knew his neck injury was quite a serious one; and there was something not right about his right collarbone, as moving his arm hurt. But he needed to get to Jo.

"Tick tock, Stuart. Your partner is lost out there. You have to get her back, or she is going to die. Are you ready, Stuart? Ready to save your partner's life?"

"What.... what do you mean?" Stu groaned as he reached down to undo the seat belt, pushed open the twisted and torn metal which had been the driver's door and half-stepped, half-fell from the driver's seat. He caught himself and leaned heavily against the crashed car, taking in his surroundings. Something was very, very off.

It was as though his world had turned completely grey. It wasn't light, but it wasn't dark either. There was a strange luminescence in the air and he could see a long way ahead of him, across the river back into the city. It looked completely deserted. By a trick of the light, the buildings and streets seemed to be receding. A strange mist flowed around the edges of the ancient factory, which seemed to be getting further away too.

He closed his eyes. He couldn't make sense of it. Jo's words came back to him, about being careful what he was dismissing. He took a shaky step forward. The voice came back.

"Stuart. Jo's in the factory. You have to find her and bring her back. If you don't, Stuart, she's going to die."

He stumbled away from the car, swinging around in a circle. "Who are you? Where are you? Why are you telling me this?"

"You've saved her life before, Stuart. Remember? This should be a piece of cake for you. Just go in there and get her back."

"Who are you?" With an effort, he pulled himself together, tuning out his aches and pains. He headed back towards the factory through the strange mist which seemed to pluck at his legs.

The voice urged him on. "This isn't about me, Stuart. This is about you and the measure of your love for your friend. Save her, Stuart. Be the hero."

The words echoing in his head, he stumbled on, back towards the factory.


	2. Fear and Loathing

The voice followed him, echoing in his head. He was getting closer to the factory building, which seemed to be coming to life before his eyes. He stared as the cracked and peeling door swung gently open, only suddenly it wasn't cracked and peeling anymore. Stu faltered as fear coursed through him; it made no sense, and it was scaring him witless.

His knees felt like jelly. His right leg had obviously been damaged in the crash, he was limping badly, but he forced himself to keep moving despite the pain. Jo was in there. The voice had told him so and even though he didn't have a clue where he was going, somehow he would find her. He didn't even know how he understood this with such certainty, but he had to plough on.

He was near the door, _just a few more feet,_ and he stepped forward. Suddenly he was falling. The tarmac was there one moment, and then it wasn't. A chasm had opened up beneath him. Frantically, he grabbed hold of the crack in the pitted tarmac just in front of him and managed to break his fall. The jolt knocked the wind out of him and launched spasms of pain through his neck and collar bone. For a moment, he hung precariously. Beneath his feet, it was scorching hot. The heat seemed to rise around him, and his lungs struggled to draw in oxygen. He dug his fingers in hard and chanced a glance down. What he saw widened his eyes in horror and fear. The flames beneath him were dark, and everything below seemed to be boiling up, as though trying to grab him and pull him down. The final horror was that something, or someone, appeared to be moving down there.

He scrabbled at the cracks in the tarmac in sheer terror until his fingers found purchase and he pulled himself up.

"Did you really think this was going to be easy? How arrogant." The voice was back, taunting him. Stuart dragged his scraped and dirty palms down his already filthy jeans in an effort to still his shaking hands. He was terrified. But he pushed the factory door open and stepped inside. "No..... nothing in my life is ever that easy," he countered. "This is some kind of test, right?" Why Jo should be in here he couldn't think, but as nothing thus far had made sense...he looked up and could see through the rotting floorboards right up to the roof. But it was all changing: the light was fading, the mist was back.

"Jo. JO!" he called out to her. His friend, probably the only true and lasting friend he had, was lost in this dreadful place. He wandered on. Compelled to move, although every step hurt, he couldn't leave Jo behind. He pushed open another door to reveal a dark corridor which smelt of damp and must, and something else, entirely alien. There was something so wrong about this place he couldn't really work out where he was.

"I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto?!" He swung round, his laugh bitter and full of pain. Toenails clicked on the concrete floor behind him, and he stopped. Toenails. He turned round. Looked down. The dog looked back at him. It was a big dog, some sort of security-type breed he thought, and there was something terribly wrong with it. He could see entrails, and half its throat seemed to be missing. All which seemed to be intact were the two rows of gleaming white teeth he could see bared in its snarl. Slowly he backed away, his hand stretched out to push on the door to another room. Anywhere would do, where didn't really matter, but he had to get away from the dog. The dog was moving towards him, he could hear a low growl building in its lack of throat, and he pushed on the door. _Another corridor_. He spun on his heel and fled.

He ran hard, aware he could hear the animal only a few paces behind him, and gaining. In desperation he flung himself at the next door ahead, which swung open, and he fell through it panting. He spun to push it closed as the dog's weight cannoned into it, nearly tearing the handle out of his hand. He forced the door shut and turned back. The weird grey luminescence which had seeped into the room by the window lit the corpse in front of him. He was a police officer; he had seen plenty of sights, hideous, nightmare-ish sights, of man's inhumanity to man, but he was unable to control the whimper of sheer terror. He had believed he was immune, until seeing the corpse in front of him. It was human. At least he thought so. It was mangled almost beyond recognition, but he thought it had once been a man. It had a gun in its hand. Stu's brain pondered the significance of the firearm as another click of toenails on the clay-tiled floor sounded off to his left. He turned his head very slowly.

There were three of the dogs. And all three of them were in the same condition as the one he had encountered in the corridor. Stu went for the gun. That was all that he could do. He'd played enough computer games to know how to point and shoot. The first one fell with the first shot, the second took two shots to die, the third was flying through the air, straight for his throat. Stu fell back against the bank of lockers lining the wall behind him and fired.

The dog slammed into the lockers on the far wall and fell twitching less than a foot away. He sank to the ground, sobbing in fright.

"Tick tock, Stuart." That damned voice, taunting him. He took a moment to compose himself. _Computer games_. That was something he could use. He took a deep breath, and walked over to the corpse. The way it worked in the game, you sought out things which could be useful to you, and you took stuff off your defeated enemies. _This is completely revolting_. He clamped down on his nausea and searched the corpse. Rifling through the pockets of the torn and filthy clothing, his search yielded three more clips of ammunition for the gun, a pocket-sized medical kit which he shoved into his jeans pocket, and an empty drinking bottle. He was about to leave it, when it occurred to him that this was how it all worked. He continued rifling through the pockets, turning up a dog whistle and a chocolate bar.

"You're getting the idea now. But you need to hurry." He tuned out the voice, concentrating instead on the image of Jo in his mind. The picture in his wallet of him and her together. He remembered now. He pulled out his wallet and moved the card which covered the picture to another slot. No one would know his secret, and it helped to have the picture to look at. Mickey had picked up the camera and taken the picture of them. Stu allowed himself a quick look. Him and Jo, sitting on his desk. She had an arm round his neck, he had a hand on her knee. All very chummy and friendly, and they were looking at each other. They'd just closed a case, _another one of his 'triumphs' _ he remembered with a bitter smile. He also remembered thinking at the time that his best friend looked beautiful. Wishing the warm smile on her face was really just for him. Later, when Stuart was alone with only his paperwork for company, he had got the picture off the camera's card and had printed it out. Very carefully he cut and folded it, and put it in his wallet. Now he stuffed the wallet back in his pocket, mooching about would not find Jo.

He felt hungry, but eating something which had come from a cadaver as disgusting as the one he had just searched seemed like a very bad idea. He shoved all his finds into his pockets, and looked around him for another exit. There was a second door, and he moved on.

He moved from room to room, keeping a wary eye out for the dog, calling Jo's name from time to time. There was no answer, and as he moved through the dark and gloomy place a figure moved up ahead of him and he picked up speed. "JO!" he roared at the top of his voice, running now. It was a woman. Joy surged through him; he'd found her. The she turned. It wasn't Jo. The kick of disappointment was crippling. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, flipping it inside out, showing the picture.

"Please," he begged, "have you seen her?"

"Who?" The woman was old and frail and bewildered, and Stu huffed in frustration. He forced himself to put the picture before her again.

"Jo.... Jo Masters." He tapped at the picture with his index finger. "Look, this is Jo. Have you seen her?"

The woman was barely with it, but she extended a shaking hand and pointed up the corridor ahead of them. Stu thanked her and ran.

The dark seemed to be seeping in more, crushing the weird luminescence around him. Stu pushed open the doors into yet another corridor. He moved forwards. Slowly. Something wasn't right, but then nothing about this was right. Hands snatched at him, grabbing his clothing. He fought on pushing and shoving in the dark, until he reached another pair of doors and fell through them.

A torch shone in his eyes. "Sergeant Turner."

"Who wants to know?" He put his hand up to shield his eyes, trying to peer beyond the light.

A hand grabbed his wrist, and spun him round. He tried to struggle, but the grip was incredibly strong.

"DS Stuart Turner, you are under arrest for the murder of DC Joanne Masters."

Stu couldn't believe his ears. "No." he struggled, but it was no good. A bracelet snapped shut around his wrist while his other arm was dragged back and the second cuff closed around his wrist. He struggled for a couple of seconds more. A hand grasped his shoulder and spun him round and he blinked in disbelief. "Sam!"

The blonde stared back at him with barely a flicker of recognition.

"Sam.... it's me... Stuart... for god's sake." he turned slightly, pushing his cuffed wrists towards her, "let me go."

Her answer was to push him in the back towards the door, back the way he had come.

He had a split second to make the decision. If he let himself be taken back, he would lose too much time, and Jo would be lost forever. He bent over, feigning injury, and as she moved to grab his shoulder again, he barged Sam sideways. Her weight momentarily surprised him and he staggered, regained his balance and charged through the swing doors behind him, and then he was stumbling and running down the hall. She wasn't far behind him, she was gaining, he had to get away, he saw a door way, the door was open, the keys hanging in the lock. He flung himself at the doorway, grabbing the keys, and shoving the door shut, fumbling with the keys trying them out in turn, difficult with his hands cuffed behind him. He caught a lucky break when the third key he tried locked the door.

He sank to his knees, panting.


	3. Pain and Revelation

Stu was on his knees. He took a deep breath trying to steady his breathing, then nearly lost it as his eyes adjusted to the gloom and he realised he was trapped with two corpses this time. He bit back a scream and controlled his rising panic. He had to move fast. And he couldn't do that, or search for Jo, with his hands cuffed behind his back.

He bent forward, fighting the faintness which was making the room swim, and the grey seeping around the edges of his consciousness. His body wanted to give up, as now the pain was constant and he was getting weaker, he knew. His shoulder and neck throbbed as he tried to step through the cuffs and bring his bound hands to the front. Finally he managed it, collapsing against the wall as stars swirled before his eyes and the room spun round. He leaned into the wall, resting his head against it. Closed his eyes as pain tore through the right hand side of his body like a firestorm. Slowly the pain receded a little, and he straightened up. He had a mission and he couldn't fail.

He clamped down on the bile which rose in his throat and went through the pockets of the hideously-mangled corpses on the floor. Another water bottle, this time with water in it. He uncapped it and, pausing, took a careful swig. It _was_ water. Until now, he hadn't realised how thirsty he was too. He took a couple more sips and stuffed the bottle in his other jacket pocket. There was a bang from the corridor outside and he paused, listening intently. Nothing happened, but he moved more quickly, found five more clips of ammunition and another small bag of first-aid supplies which he stuffed in the front pockets of his jeans. He was starting to run out of pockets.

He finished his disgusting search and moved cautiously to the door. Held his breath. _Listened_. Silence. He put the key in the lock, and turned it. He stuffed the keyring back into his pocket and pulled the gun out of his belt. As he turned the handle, the blade came through the cracked boards of the old door so fast he had no time to react, no time to even cry out as it pierced his shoulder. He raised the gun and fired. The scream which came from beyond the door was not human. He yanked the door wide and rushed in as she was falling backwards, flailing, her head split open, peeled in two, but she already was starting to recover. He didn't have time to wait around and wonder as what his hazed brain was telling him was completely impossible. Sam seemed to be a robot.

He barged past her, his shoulder bleeding, hurling himself at the door at the end of the corridor and scrambling through it, into another room. Stu stumbled. His body crying out for rest, but there was none to be had. He glanced behind him. The black was closing in behind him, the grey fog and the weird light chasing before it.

"This way," a new voice called out, "over here." Behind him, he could hear the sound of footsteps. She was coming, the robot Sam. He looked around wildly and saw her. She looked strangely familiar: tall, curvaceous, long black hair secured in a plait which dangled halfway down her back. She was standing by a door he hadn't yet noticed. Grateful for a friendly face, he staggered towards her. A strong hand firmly clasped his left arm and pulled him through the door.

"Who are you?" he faltered. She shook her head and smiled. "Sssshh." Gently she placed a finger over his lips, and guided him back into the shadows. Stu was about to question her further when the door opened. Sam stood in the doorway. He almost gasped in fear, but the girl had her arm around him, and at the tiny shake of her head, he held it together.

The figure he had thought was Sam Nixon moved into the dim light of the stairwell, so close he could almost touch her. Seeing her bathed in the grey light filtering down from above, he wondered how he had ever thought he and Sam could have a future; it was all wrong. He'd come between her and the man she loved, and they were both punished for it. And now it was too late. Too late to say sorry, to see where the harm really lay. He breathed in silently, and held his breath as robot Sam turned and mounted the stairs.

Slowly the tramp of feet faded. He looked at his rescuer. "Who are you?" She looked oddly familiar, and he had the weirdest feeling he knew her, but was certain he'd never met her.

"My name is Lily.," she said. "Right now, you need to be able to get moving, so the long, tedious explanations are just going to have to wait."

"Time, Stuart. It's all about time." The voice had returned. "You took the time to get to know Jo, so you have the time to find her. Just enough time, Stuart. Enough time to save Jo. You do want to save Jo, don't you? Your best friend!"

_Your only friend_, the unspoken words reverberated in his was in pain, he was getting weaker, just surviving this far had been a struggle, and there was worse to come, he knew it. But he had to save Jo.

"I want to save Jo." His voice sounded broken to his own ears, the voice of a man who could grow no older.

"I'm here, Stu...."

He looked up...she was in his head and in his heart, and he saw with searing clarity the way forward.

"Jo" he whispered, tears making trails in the dirt on his face. In his mind's eye she nodded and smiled. He'd walk into hell and back for that smile. The smile which lit up her face, transforming her from a slightly plain woman into his Jo--his beautiful, wonderful best friend. The only person who cared about him.

"You've done quite well so far, Stuart. So I've decided to give you some help." The voice was back in his head, and this time he knew it was in his mind. "Someone who has a vested interest in seeing that you save Jo, Stuart..."

Even as he looked into the dark green eyes of the young woman in front of him, his mind accepting what his heart knew was the truth. "My daughter, Lily," he finished, already knowing.

"It gets harder from here on in. You have choices to make, Stuart. And miles to go, and promises to keep."

_Miles to go before I sleep_. He was tiring. Lily reached into his pocket and pulled out one of the first aid kits, she tended to his shoulder. Stu's dark eyes searched her face, as she cleaned the wound and taped his shoulder. She looked up into his face, and smiled "Yes I'm real, Stuart. Or I will be. If you save Jo."

He couldn't think of anything rational to say. Just drank in the details, like a thirsty man in the desert. His daughter, tall, strong…

"It isn't your time, Stuart. And it isn't Jo's time. You have to get her back, Stu."

He studied Lily's face, fighting the feeling that he wanted to pull her into his arms and never let her go; he didn't have time for that, _tick tock_, so he dug deep and found a second wind from somewhere.

He pulled the gun out of his waistband and ejected the clip, although how he knew how to do that he couldn't really have said. He'd never done it before. He snapped the safety on and stuck the gun back in his waistband. It was a pain in the backside being cuffed, but he didn't have time to worry too much about that.


	4. Lost in Confusion

"Ready?"

Stu glanced sideways at the woman who was his daughter. Lily smiled. "Anything more than...up or down?"

Stu looked up: that way lead to robot Sam, and possibly more danger. But down?! There was something about descending the stairs into the gloom below which terrified him. But down it would have to be. He needed to keep moving.

"Down," he said, with forced confidence. Lily took the opposite side of the staircase as they began to descend.

The further they went, the more the light changed. Now the grey luminescence was tinged with a strange scarlet glow, like looking into the pit of hell. Everything he had faced so far was just a practice run, he realised. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard on a lump of self-doubt. _I can't do this_. Admitting there was something he couldn't do was rare. But this was a game which was played for keeps, not something he could reset and merely start again. He was gambling with lives--his and Jo's and Lily's--and he didn't want to know what would happen if he lost.

"I can't do this." Out loud now. He was shivering in panic. He looked back over his shoulder, where the darkness had again advanced. Everything behind them was now black, as though the world had ceased to exist beyond the realms of where they were.

Lily moved closer to him. "You _have_ to do it, if you want to save Jo. I can help you, but there are rules. I can't do it for you."

"I know." He forced down his panic. He had to save Jo. He could do it. He was good at what he did, so he could be good at this, too. Not being alone helped tremendously.

He pushed on, though the heat was now stifling. He undid another couple of buttons on his shirt and took another swig from the bottle of water. The cuffs were still hampering his movements, and being unable to get his wrists more than three inches apart was becoming a major inconvenience. For a moment, Stu considered the bunch of keys still in his pocket. _What were the odds…? _Unlikely, he decided. He was just going to have to cope.

They'd come to the yet another doorway, and Stu pushed open the door to find another corridor: long, dark, and infused with the nasty smell of damp. He had the strangest feeling of déjà vu, but steadily he limped on. Something moved up in the gloom up ahead, where he caught a tiny glimpse of something moving. He raised the gun to aim. Now there was movement all around them. He looked back at Lily; hands were reaching out to grab her and she twisted away frantically. Now they were running, the heat and the grabbing hands were all around them, and they kicked and elbowed their way through. A doorway appeared ahead of them, and Stu barrelled through it, turning to fire at the figures swamping them. Lily fell past him and he kicked the door shut.

Someone or something tackled him from behind, and they fell to the floor together. Stu strained every muscle to work himself free, but the weight on his back was heavier than him. Hands tried to drag his left arm back, which was impossible because of the cuffs. Instinctively Stu cocked his neck back hard, head-butting the person (he was certain it was a person) in the face. There was a second where he thought everything was fine as the person let go with a muttered expletive, but then a searing, white-hot pain lanced down his neck and Stu was on his hands and knees. He couldn't even scream, he was in such pain; he screwed his eyes closed and opened them again. All he could see was a blinding white light. He blinked, trying to clear his vision. It didn't work: the white flashes continued to race before his eyes. He closed his eyes again. It didn't help much.

"Stuart?" Stu recognised the new voice. Warily, he pried his eyelids open again and very slowly turned towards the speaker. The white light thinned a little and he could see the outlines of two people. He knew the smaller one was Lily...but the larger? The light slowly dissipated and peering further into the gloom, he could see Callum Stone.

"Stuart?" Callum sounded confused. _Well, at least that makes two of us._ Stu sat back on his heels very slowly; his neck felt as though it was going to break any second. He breathed out very carefully and tried to get to his feet. His weakening body was slow to respond, and they moved to help him.

Lily's hand was under his left elbow and he leaned in to her. Callum moved in on the other side and between them they lifted him to his feet. Stuart tried to ignore the waves of pain radiating from his entire right side.

"What the hell is going on?" Callum asked.

"Honestly? I don't know. All I know is, I have to find Jo." Stu looked at him desperately. "Please help me."

Callum nodded.

Relieved for the moment, Stu turned his mind to the problem in hand. All side rooms so far had yielded weapons and other things he could use...not to mention corpses. But the room they stood in now was different. There was a second door out, and here he didn't have to go through any disgusting pockets to find little treasures. Well, that suited him just fine. He reached out to grab the door handle and turn it. The door snatched itself out of his grasp and he threw himself to one side as flames curled through the door. It was the same sort of dark flame he had seen beneath his feet when he fell through the tarmac surface. The fire made shapes like hands reaching out to grab him, and in the split second before he kicked the door shut, he realised he could see something moving in the flames.

The silence was eerie. He drew a shaky breath. This was going to be even tougher than he thought.

"Other way." He reached out to pull the other door open. Once he got through, more hands grasped at him, but he barged his way through to the end of the corridor. Another door, and another staircase. Something made him choose the staircase, and he pushed his aching body to run it three steps at a time. He found himself in a long passageway, the strange luminescence all around him.

"Good choice, Stuart." The voice, his disembodied companion, again. "Now you have another choice to make. Behind these doors you will find the route to the next level. Choose carefully, follow your instincts....."

"What do you mean?" Stu swung round. "Choose wisely...what happens if I get it wrong?"

"If you get it wrong, Stuart, then it's game over, and Jo dies."

"NO... no...you can't do that." Stu spun round frantically. "You can't do that...help me out here...," he pleaded. "I don't know which way to go."

"Trust your instincts, Stuart." _Jo's voice?_

"JO...where are you?" he begged, his voice thick with tears. "Please help me."

"Your instincts, Stu. They're good. Trust your first feeling."

He closed his eyes, the tears running down his face streaking the dirt. In his mind's eye he could see Jo beckoning him. He moved forward, his eyes still closed. Now Jo's hand was guiding him; he was running on pure instinct and faith.

_"The Moving Finger writes: and, having writ,  
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit  
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,  
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it." _

The stanza from the translated poem was running through his head, but he couldn't say why he was thinking of the Rubiyyat of Omar Khyyam, but it was a connection to home and that was all that mattered. He reached another door, and tentatively put his hand on the door handle. The vision he had of Jo so clear, he could almost touch her. She was through this way, he knew it. He put his hand on the handle and pushed down.

The door opened slowly, and he found himself facing another staircase. There was only one way to go: down. With Lily and Callum following, he walked down the staircase into the unknown.


End file.
